


All Hell wants for Christmas... is you, Aziraphale

by Zeckarin



Series: And they were roomates... (but there were two beds) [11]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adam Young Still Has Powers (Good Omens), Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Antichrist Adam Young (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), BAMF Adam Young (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hellhounds, Holy Water, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley, Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Whump, Wing Grooming, crowley is a drama queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21909556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeckarin/pseuds/Zeckarin
Summary: Every year, Hell is having fun for Christmas with the demonic Chase. Usually, the prey is one of Hell's damned souls.Not today, though.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: And they were roomates... (but there were two beds) [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1523585
Comments: 86
Kudos: 222
Collections: My faves - Good Omens Whump





	1. A lovely evening in Soho

**Author's Note:**

> Hastur's obsession for Aziraphale started in Whumptober and is developed in "Hastur's love story". But really, you can read this one alone. Just know that Hastur is in love with Aziraphale since the angel stabbed him in the gut with a chopstick^^
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy my Christmas story ! Of course, being a very contradictory creature, I aim for the most Whumpy, scary, angsty Christmas story possible (WITH a Happy Ending, of course !)  
> Enjoy :D

Crowley didn’t see it coming. He hadn’t _thought_ about Christmas Chase even once since Armageddon. And why would he ? He wasn’t one of Hell’s employees any more. And the… occasion never appealed to him before. So no longing here, no regrets. Had he thought about it, he would only have felt relief at not having to participate and pretend to enjoy it.

It had been almost five months since the end of the world. A ridiculously short amount of time. Blink of an eye, to an immortal being.

And still…

And still everything had changed. So much. They were safe, they were free, they could finally stop looking over their shoulders and _exist_.

Admittedly, it was mostly Aziraphale who was learning to exist. Crowley had always existed on his own and enjoyed himself making mischief, pretending to work most of the time and taking credit for humans worst inventions. Not a lot of changes in his life, per se. The ‘not having to fear if his bosses were watching’ was a nice touch, but once again, the red haired demon never was one for worry. He always had been convinced he would come out on top eventually. Worrying was not his thing.

Probably one of the reasons Aziraphale was worrying so much for both of them.

Moving in to the Bookshop was definitely the greatest and best change in the demon’s life. He loved the backroom’s couch much more than his old bed, and was feeling like having a Home for the first time in his life. Having someone who _cared_ about him changed... everything. Falling asleep whenever he wanted, waking up under a tartan blanket and to the sound of pages turning from the armchair, having a mug of coffee handed to him before he could even ask for it… and all the demonic mischief he could work on when some human was stupid enough to enter the shop ! Hadn’t it been anti demonic to feel happy, he would have confessed he was. Couldn’t be more, to be honest (but honesty wasn’t demonic either, so…).

He was content to take life at it was (which was, at the time, perfect) and to see Aziraphale slowly starting to realise he was out of Heaven’s clutches and could selfishly enjoy his life. Crowley's constant presence helped. The angel had a lot to work on, and trust was the more pressing issue. Not trust in Crowley, of course. He trusted Crowley with his life, that they both knew. But trust in his continued presence (Stupid century-long nap. Stupid Holly Water debacle. Stupid “When I’m up in the stars I won’t even think about you”. Stupid a lot of things.).

But it had been five months. And things had changed. Today, after that ridiculously little amount of time, it was like they’d always been on their own side. And Crowley pitied anyone trying to take that away from them. He was a sick bastard and fought dirty. And Aziraphale was stubborn to the point of being unstoppable when someone tried to take something he cared for from him.

So right now, on Christmas eve, the only trouble Crowley was facing was finding a gift. Something special, not the usual bottle of wine or chocolates. A book was too obvious and easy. And he was having a hard time. He knew there were a lot of ideas, but every time he tried to think of something, he came back to _books, chocolates, wine,_ again and again. It was infuriating.

He’d spied the angel hiding a carefully wrapped box inside his desk (by pure chance, of course. Not like he had concealed his presence in his smallest snake form under a shelf for the last hours just to see what Aziraphale had got him. Not at all) and the box looked nothing like wine. It was a Gift. Real one. He could not fuck that up.

He’d briefly considered asking Anathema, but really, if he couldn’t come up with something by himself, after _six_ _thousand_ fucking years, then he didn’t deserve the ‘best friend’ title any more. And he cared about that title a lot. Wouldn’t give it up to anyone else, not even a smart, funny, wicked and pregnant witch.

That’s how he found himself on the Christmas market. Aziraphale loved Christmas, couldn’t have enough of it. He loved the joy, the laughters, the happiness in the air, the colours and the music everywhere.

Crowley liked the season too. There was a lot of frustration and anger to stir… trucks full of the latest toy in fashion to delay, using a demonic miracle to have every Christmas tree on sale missing a strategic branch and look just slightly wanting… Christmas was _FUN_ !

And this year, he would enjoy it, and not take part in this sham of a hunt…

He was working on a crafted spell that had the pavement freezing enough to make people fall (but without injuries. Aziraphale would never forgive him that) when he felt a familiar rush of demonic energy. He jumped to the side, ready to bolt, searching for…

“Hastur ?”

He slightly (very slightly) relaxed. Hastur had reasons to hate him, but he didn’t think the Duke of Hell would try to destroy him… that would make Aziraphale sad, and Hastur (the sick bastard) was head over heels for the angel.

“What do you want ?”

The Duke looked at him. He was… breathless. And he looked scared. That was a first.

“The Chase. It has begun. They just announced it.”

Crowley made a face. The bloody Hunt. Every year, on Christmas eve, Hell had a big celebration. All the “deserving” demons were allowed to take part. A human soul was carefully selected (a hard, violent, cunning soul) and released on Earth. Then the Hellhounds were sent after it, and the Chase begun. If the soul could stand the night, it was free to go. Which was not a gift, since it meant to wander as a ghost, but hey, better than Hell.

No soul ever won, anyway.

Crowley had taken part in a lot of Chases. What with the commendations and all that shit. couldn’t really decline the honour. Most of the time, he tried his best to pretend to enjoy it, and found _clues_ in a lot of pubs on his way, never getting to the target (in fact, getting as far from it as possible) The Hellhounds didn’t kill. That was for the first demon to get to the prey. But they maimed. A lot.

Crowley shrugged.

“So what ? I don’t care, wasn’t invited this year, and wouldn’t have come anyway. Don’t you have some pour sod to hunt ?”

“It’s not a soul. This year, it’s not a soul, Crawly !”

That got his attention. This was unusual.

“What do you mean ?”

“They decided to change the rules. To lift up everyone’s spirit. They all wanted the war, they wanted to fight against angels… so Hell decided to… change the target this year. Position of Baron of Hell to the winner.”

Dread settled in Crowley’s black heart. He already knew the answer before asking, but asked nevertheless, praying (no, not praying, hoping) that he was wrong.

“Who ?”

* * *

Seconds later, he appeared in front of the Bookshop, and snapped his fingers to materialize the Bentley in her usual spot before rushing in, his mind full of dark and bloody scenes…

“Aziraphale !”

A very surprised angel looked at him. There were people with him. Customers. Oh, great. Bloody perfect.

“OUT !” yelled the demon in a not very human voice. The shop emptied in mere seconds. Before Aziraphale could utter a word (and if his face was a good indicator, he had a lot of words at the ready) Crowley grabbed his elbow and _pulled_.

“We have to run ! Now !”

Aziraphale took half a second to look at him. And ran.

“The Bentley !” barked the demon, running around the car to get to his seat. The angel quickly opened his door and got in, fastening his seatbelt as Crowley hit the road as fast as he could.

For a moment, his terror was replaced by relief. Aziraphale was alive, he’d got there in time. Thank someone. Then it came back, stronger than ever. They had to get a fucking _wiggle on_. Hellhounds were bloody fast. Maybe even faster than the car.

Bentley roared and accelerated. Aziraphale, face livid, gripping the door handle for dear life, turned to his friend.

“What the Hell is going on ?”

“That’s the problem. Hell is going on ! They’re coming for you ! The Chase !”

Aziraphale knew about the Chase. He highly disapproved. He’d helped Crowley finding clues in pubs more than once. He looked back at the road, processing the news.0

“Oh. Oh, I see.”

“That’s it ? That’s all ? Oh, I see ? Really ? All Hell’s demons are after your soul, and that’s all you have to say ?” yelled Crowley in a frenzy.

The angel shrugged.

“What is your plan, my dear ? I assume you have one ?”

“We’re going to Heaven’s entrance, and you get your arse Up There, pronto. They won’t follow you there. You wait for Christmas day, and you come back.”

“Oh” murmured Aziraphale again, in a very subdued tone. Crowley knew that tone. He knew it very well. It was not a good tone to hear at this particular moment.

“You’re going to do that, right ? Don’t argue now, it’s your only chance. I don’t want to hear a thing, I’m serious ! You get Up, you wait. Don’t worry about me, they’re not after me.”

Aziraphale looked away, out his window, face closed. Heaven and Hell’s entrance building was on view now. Crowley started to breathe again.

“What will happen if they can’t get to me ? Will they smell me in Heaven ?”

Crowley felt another kind of dread fill his stomach. Oh no. No no no no no no, _shit_ ! He hadn’t thought of _that_ !

“They won’t. Heaven is off limits. Hellhounds can’t reach there.”

“You told me they were unstoppable, that they would follow a scent and destroy their target, interested in nothing else as long as they were hunting. That they were ruthless, and bloodthirsty, and no one could escape them.”

Crowley closed his eyes in defeat. _Fuck_.

“Yes, that’s true.”

“So if my scent disappears from Earth, the Hellhounds will all be there, with no prey. What will they do until dawn ? They have to get back at dawn, right ?”

“Yes. Yes, they… they’ll be there.”

“With no target” That wasn’t a question.

Crowley stopped in front of the building, and looked at the angel. His eyes met a gaze of steel. None of them talked. They didn’t need to.

 _Please g_ _o_ _in, just g_ _o_ _in, don’t think about the humans, for once_ , were pleading yellow eyes.

 _Don’t make me say it. Don’t make me refuse_ _again, I beg you_ , answered the blue ones.

Crowley opened his mouth, but couldn’t say a word. This was the bandstand all over again, and he knew the outcome. The Bentley roared and the building disappeared in the rear window.

For a minute, silenced reigned in the car.

“I didn’t think of it. Of what they would do if you escaped.”

Aziraphale smiled sadly. “I know, dear boy. I know you wouldn’t have offered it if you had.”

Crowley’s shoulders sagged. What now ? His brain was thinking as fast as he could, envisioning every possibility.

“What about Adam ? We could pop up in Tadfield, right ? He’s the Antichrist, he’s got the biggest Hellhound of all… can protect you.”

The angel nodded thoughtfully. “Are you certain they can’t hurt him ?”

Crowley’s fingers twitched on the steering wheel.

“Fairly certain. Almost. He’s their master on Earth… I guess...”

They exchanged a glance. How far had Adam reached when he’d affirmed Satan was not his father ? Aziraphale sighed, and Crowley let out a frustrated huff.

“So. Not Adam.”

“Not Adam.”

Well, thought the demon. They couldn’t teleport, the demons after Aziraphale would sensed it and join them in seconds. They couldn’t escape in Heaven, and joining Adam could put the kid in danger.

And dozens of Hellhounds were after them and would soon find them.

Easy as pie.

They were so dead.


	2. Christmas Eve in a stable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are on the run. But is it even possible to run away from Hell ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you will enjoy this chapter !

“So… what now ?” asked the angel as the Bentley entered the M25 at full speed.

“I… don’t know. Usually, when you’re hunted, you shouldn’t stop running. But there’s _Hell_ bloody _Hounds_ , and there’s no way to shake ‘em off. They’ll come to us eventually. We have to prepare for that. Not that it will change a thing, because we are _FUCKED_ , angel ! There’s dozens of the things, and I don’t think we could take even one. Okay, maybe one. Not two. Or if we are _very_ lucky. But that’s the limit. Two is the absolute...”

“My dear… do you really think it is the moment to have a fit ?”

“It is ! It’s the perfect moment to have a fit, Aziraphale ! There’s never been a more fucking fitting moment for a bloody fit !”

“Crowley” chided the angel calmly. Crowley stopped yelling, biting his lips to prevent an angry retort. NOT the good time to have an argument.

“I am afraid I am not… very gifted at escaping chasers” sighed Aziraphale.

“I am. Escaping is my domain of expertise, always has been”

And Crowley suddenly realised it was true. He was the only one remotely able to get them out of this situation. Freaking out was definitely out of the question.

Aziraphale smiled at him, trust inscribed in his every feature.

“I know, dear boy. I am sure you will find a way to get us out of this… predicament.”

_Oh, bless… did he really think that ?_

Crowley eyed his friend, noticed the tension in his shoulder, the stiff fingers. Nope, Aziraphale knew they were doomed. _Good._ The most dangerous targets were always the ones with nothing to lose. Hope, in this situation, was a hindrance. Crowley’s fingers unclenched a little on the steering wheel. They would do it. They had to get through.

“Thanks, angel”

Aziraphale blinked in surprise.

“Whatever for ?”

“Not asking me to leave you alone and save my skin.”

The angel laughed softly “Oh, I would never insult you that way. It would make me very angry if you asked it from me, had the roles been reversed.”

Crowley repressed a smile. Honestly, had he been in the angel’s place, he thought he would have asked him to leave, like the selfish bastard he was (not that Aziraphale would have obeyed. Not a chance).

Years of trying to convince Aziraphale they were on they own side, and still the angel got the hang of its true meaning before him.

_Alright. How to survive that ? We only have to make it through the night, after all…_

* * *

Miles away, Dog sniffed the air. That smell… that delicious smell… and the noises… the loud trumpets, the cries, the laughter and the barking...

This was the Chase !

He wiggled his tail, happy memories coming to him. The Chase ! So much fun ! He had to tell his Master ! Maybe they could hunt together !

The smell, the delicate, sweet smell, was invading his brain as it did for every other Hellhound.

Dog tilted his head. Something was not right. He _knew_ this smell. Knew it very well. It smelled like soft carpet, warm fire, cocoa and sticky marshmallows discretely handed to him under the coffee table by an angelic hand.

Dog did NOT want to chase that smell.

Dog did not want anyone chasing it !

He barked, ran around his master, barked again.

“What’s wrong, Dog ?” asked Brian.

Pepper picked up a fallen branch and looked around. If Greasy Johnson and the Johnsonites were trying to ambush them, they were in for a bad surprise.

But nothing happened, except Dog’s incessant barking and running.

Wensley yawned. It was getting late, and the sun was about to set.

“We are supposed to go home, guys”

Adam watched Dog running in circles frantically, and shrugged.

“Yeah, let’s go home. Come on, Dog.”

Why wouldn’t they _listen_ ? Thought Dog desperately.

Whining, he looked over his shoulder. The prey… _no, friend_ , the _friend_ … was there. In that direction. Far away.

He wanted to go.

“Dog ! Come on !”

His Master’s Voice cut through his thoughts like a hot poker through butter. Dog ran to Adam's heels.

* * *

“All right, so… we need weapons. To defend ourselves. What about your sword ?”

“I had to give it back. couldn’t keep it, really, it’s not mine anymore.”

“Great. That could have come in handy, but whatever. Anything else ?”

Aziraphale looked away, frowning, lips tightening. Oh yes, he was thinking of something, realised the demon.

“Yes ? What’s on your mind, angel ? Come on, not the time to keep things to yourself.”

“I… I could… I mean, if we find some… I can make Holy Water.”

Crowley gaped.

“Uh… wh… ngk… wot ?”

“Holly Water. I can make some. If we… find water, of course.”

“But… Holly… you know. You hate the thing. You don’t even want to talk about it ! _Holy_ _Water_ , Aziraphale !”

The angel closed his eyes, in the best _“God, give me strength”_ kind of way, and sighed.

“Yes, I KNOW. Obviously. I hate to think of creating some so close to you, and I don’t like the idea of using it on anyone. But there are demons after us. What would you have me _do_ , Crowley ?”

Well. He didn’t even think of the stuff, to be honest. That changed a lot of things.

“We have to find water. Quick. No miracling, angel” warned Crowley as an afterthought.

“I am not _totally_ brainless” retorted the angel primly.

“Yeah. Not totally. Sometimes you seem almost brilliant” answered Crowley with a wink.

“I will smite you as soon as we are out of danger, serpent” chuckled Aziraphale.

The Bentley pulled over near an empty pasture. Not a house in view, except an old stable. Crowley pointed to a stretch of trees in the distance.

“Weeping willows. There’s water here.”

“Alright. You are the greenery expert.”

The Bentley’s boot was almost empty, save for a crate of wine and a tartan bag that usually contained a blanket, an umbrella, cutlery, a bottle opener (of course) and some napkins for any impromptu picnic. The demon sighed and rummaged a moment before closing the lid.

“Let us go, then” announced Aziraphale before heading towards the trees. Crowley followed his friend’s purposeful strides, picnic bag hanging off his shoulder. Aziraphale was anything but indecisive in the face of certain death, his bearings the same as facing Satan not so long ago. This was frightening, and Crowley would give anything to see the angel wriggle his hands and fiddle with his waistcoat’s buttons. He shook his head, pushing his fear aside. Not the time.

First, water. Then, find a shelter. Some place far away from humans, reclusive. He eyed the stable. They wouldn’t last long in that fragile thing. But it was that or the Bentley. They could drive longer, but humans were everywhere these days. They probably wouldn’t find a better location before being found out.

Then… then wait. It wouldn't be long, he was certain of it. Hellhounds were roaming the entire Earth, but it was quite obvious most of them were in England, Aziraphale’s usual lair.

How many ? did hellhounds even fear holy water? he knew it wouldn't kill them. Only demons were destroyed by that thing

Oh, but demons would come too. that was for sure. _Merry Christmas, Crowley. Merry shitty Christmas._

Aziraphale’s figure stopped abruptly in front of him. Crowley summoned Hellfire to the tips of his fingers without even thinking about it, eyes shooting left and right. But the angel let out a relieved sigh and knelt near what appears to be the bank of a small pond.

“Water. Thank the Almighty. Oh, this is highly unnecessary, dear boy” added the angel, looking back over his shoulder and taking in his friend’s flaming hand.

Crowley shook his fingers to vanish the fire and uncorked the first bottle of Château Margaux he was carrying in his bag.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

The wine gurgled in the grass, and Crowley handed the empty bottle to the angel before opening another one.

“That’s a bloody sacrilege. If I hadn’t already Fallen, I sure would now. And we can’t even _drink_ it… you sure you don’t prefer to die, angel ? Three bottles left. Still time to change your mind.”

Aziraphale’s tensed shoulders relaxed slightly and he couldn’t repress a smile.

“I understand your reluctance, my dear, but this is for the greater good. Consider it part of the ineffable plan, if it helps.”

“Not really. Makes it even worse.”

The last bottle was finally emptied then filled with muddy water, and Aziraphale took Crowley’s offered hand to get up.

“Shame you couldn’t bless the wine directly.”

“It has to be water. And anyway, you couldn’t have drank it afterwards.”

“I hate it when you’re all logical, angel.”

“I know. So… what now ?” The angel looked at the Bentley’s silhouette in the distance.

“Change of plan. We stay here.” Crowley pointed towards the stable. Aziraphale chuckled.

“Really, Crowley ? A stable on Christmas eve ?”

The demon flashed a toothy grin.

“Only the best for you, angel.”

Aziraphale entered first. Then stopped, and put a hand over his mouth to hide his delighted grin, intense relief mingling with anticipation. Crowley, he knew it, would get in a fit.

“What ?” asked the demon before catching up in two strides, taking in the manger (no baby here) and the…

“Fucking fuck ! It’s a bloody… it’s even full ! it’s FULL, angel ! A blessed full to the rim _water trough_ ! I killed the wine for nothing ! Six bottles of Château Margaux ! SIX ! Why ? Why do you hate me ?” yelled the red haired demon at the stable’s roof, happy to be able to yell about something else than the dreadful night stretching ahead of them.

Aziraphale carefully approached the trough. Not at all full, but at least half filled. Finally some luck.

“Crowley, my dear ?” he finally asked after five minutes of demonic anger venting. He perfectly knew his friend wasn’t really ranting about the wine. Both knew that trough could be their life saver.

The demon sulkily put his hands in his pockets (well, the tips of his fingers at least) and sat on the ground near Aziraphale with a disgusted huff. A lot of his tension had disappeared. Yelling at God always helped.

“All that good wine. All for nothing.”

“I am sure the bottles will come in handy eventually. Do you feel anything ?”

The demon shook his head. “None of them is getting close for now. But they’ll come. Night just started.”

The angel looked at the bottles peeking out of the bag, then at the trough. He hummed, eyebrows frowning as an idea occurs to him.

“I guess there is nothing we can do right now. If I bless it now...”

“They’ll all feel it. Every demon is focusing on angelic Grace right now. You can’t miracle a thing as long as they haven’t found us. And since they know I’m with you, I can’t either. Shame, really. I could’ve salvage one of this bottle of wine. That would’ve helped us pass the time.”

Aziraphale looked at his hands, folded on his lap.

“I _may_ have something in mind to occupy ourselves.”

* * *

Dog climbed back from his Master’s bed, his blood boiling in his veins. One of the Hounds had found a trail. His call, inaudible for anything else than Hellhound ears, was tugging at Dog’s hunger. His eyes glowed red for a few seconds. He looked at his Master’s sleeping form. He couldn’t _leave_ him. He had to _Protect_ him.

The call resounded again, and Dog felt every Hellhound, every demon converging on the same spot. The start of the Chase.

After a last whimper, a last look, he ran out of the bedroom.

* * *

Crowley shifted, trying to extend his legs on the floor.

“Really dear, can you just keep still for three seconds ?” asked Aziraphale, catching back the black wing that escaped his hand “It is difficult enough already.”

“T’s that bloody floor ! I can’t rest on that ! It’s impossible to sit still, angel, it’s torture !”

The angel arched an eyebrow, clearly unmoved.

“You realise of course that I am sitting on the same floor ?”

“Well you took the only comfortable spot, then.”

“If you say so” answered his friend, carefully taking a feather between his index and thumb and smoothing it with delicate, precise motions.

Crowley groaned, throwing an arm up to pull at his hair dramatically.

“This is taking foreveeer, angel ! Grooming is not supposed to take three bloody hours !”

The movement dislodged the wing from Aziraphale’s lap once more. The angel stared at his empty hands, lips tightened in a thin line, before taking a deep breath, eyes blazing in anger.

“ _Damn it_ , Crowley ! Stop moving, for the love of… just stop !”

Crowley froze, the swearing taking him aback. He swallowed in guilt, and sheepishly extended his wing back into Aziraphale’s gentle grasp.

“Ah, uh… sorry, angel.”

His friend closed his eyes a few seconds, taking a deep breath, then got back to his patient work, eyebrows frowned in concentration.

“It is almost finished. And you have nothing else to do anyway, so try to humour me, will you” grumbled the angel.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Crowley stopped his fingers from fidgeting on his knee, trying to concentrate on something else, anything else, than the angel’s burning fingers on his feathers.

His breath suddenly shuddered under the sensation of an occult presence, just at the limit of his perception.

“They’re closing in. I can feel them.”

Aziraphale frowned, smoothing another down, and let out a little hum.

“Angel, stop grooming my fucking wings and bless that water !”

“Don’t you _**dare**_ move” answered the angel in a steely voice “I have only two left.”

Crowley, fangs and claws growing in anticipation, didn’t move.

“They’re… they’re almost here, Aziraphale, damn you… they’re at the Bentley !”

A loud, mechanical roar echoed in the distance.

“I can hear that” answered Aziraphale patiently, running his fingers along the last feather “There. Here you are, my dear”

Crowley jumped on his feet, tugging at the angel arm to help him on his feet.

“Bless that bloody water **NOW** !”

Aziraphale stumbled toward the drinking trough, plunged his arm in the water. No time for subtlety. His eyes cleared again, taking an ice blue that was anything but natural. The water shimmered briefly.

Loud growls were erupting all around the stable, sending a chill directly down Aziraphale’s spine, making him shiver unwillingly.

Crowley handed him a bottle, not taking his eyes away from the entry.

The bottle’s content flickered. Crowley took it back.

“Talk about a freackin’ Molotov” he murmured in what (he hoped) was his best playful voice.

Aziraphale rapidly blessed the other bottles.

Silence suddenly fell all over.

“What are they waiting ?” whispered the angel.

“The kill” uttered Crowley through gritted teeth. “Get ready. And angel ?”

Their eyes met for a second.

“Don’t show any mercy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be whumpy. Sorry in advance ^^


	3. Not so Silent Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whump time, guys !  
> Our boys are cornered, and there is no way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay !  
> Apparently writing during Christmas Eve's meal is not socially acceptable. Did you know that ?😆

For a minute, silence reigned. Crowley knew why. Let the tension building up. Let the fear grow. Another kind of Hellish torture. He threw a glance at Aziraphale, hands hovering over the trough, eyes shining like two frozen stars.

Well, if Hell wanted to unsettle its prey, that was a lost cause. The angel was anything if not patient.

A yell erupted from outside.

“Crowley ! We know you’re in there ! Give us the angel and we’ll let you go !”

Well well well… apparently Crowley’s ‘immunity’ to Holy Water still scared the other demons enough to try to get him out of the way without fighting.

He yelled back “Yeah, okay, you can have him !”

A silhouette appeared at the entry to the stable.

“Really ?” asked an incredulous (and happily surprised) voice.

“No, not really, you stupid prick !”

“Crowley ! Language !”

“They’re here to _kill_ you, angel !”

“That is not a reason to be rude.”

Crowley didn’t deign answer that, and threw his bottle at the newcomer, using a demonic miracle to explode it mid air, right over the demon.

A splash echoed, followed by an awful, ear-shattering howl, ending brusquely.

Crowley could hear gasps and swearing outside.

“That’s right, you fuckers ! That’s Holy Water ! And we have tons of it ! I don’t fear it, what about you ?”

He turned to grin at the angel. That one would buy them some time.

Aziraphale was white as a sheet, looking at the place the demon had dissolved…

“Angel. We have no choice. It’s kill or get killed here.”

His friend gave the slightest nod.

 _I should have seen that coming_. _We’re not talking about discorporation. We are aiming to destroy._

“Can you do it ? Aziraphale ? Do you think you...”

The angel shot him a glare.

“I am perfectly able to play my part. It does not mean I have to enjoy it.”

A flick of the angel’s hand, and a large bubble of water rose from the trough, hovering mid-air.

 _Good_. Crowley wasn’t able to manipulate Holy Water any more than Aziraphale could Hellfire.

“You told me they would try a concerted attack next ?”

Crowley nodded.

“Yep, that’s Hell’s tactic. They’ll try to get to you themselves for the prize. If we survive and destroy enough of them…”

“They will send the Hellhounds”

The demon shrugged.

“You’re an angel, and there’s a good prize, no demon will abandon a chance at killing an angel that easily. The Hellhounds will be set on us only as last recourse… they tend to spoil the fun.”

“Of course. The fun” muttered Aziraphale grimly.

Crowley grited his teeth.

“They’re ready, I feel the bloodlust. Any moment now.”

He had barely finished his sentence when the wooden walls shattered all around them. Aziraphale only had the time to make out dark wings, teeth, claws, coming from everywhere. He shifted his hold on the bubble of water and closed his fist with a shout. The water exploded, soaking everything around.

The searing pain of the dying demons had Aziraphale hurl in on himself. Hurt, despair, fear…

He staggered to stay on his feet and pushed the feeling away, rushing to the only demon that hadn’t been reduced to a pool of goo.

“Crowley ? Crowley are you all right ?”

His friend, soaked hair on his eyes, was breathing heavily, his pupils wide with pain making his eyes almost black, the yellow only a thin circle of gold.

“M’fine” he growled with great effort.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the demon’s clothes, wings and hair were dry again. Crowley sighed in relief and straightened, trying to shake off his friend’s hand on his shoulder. Aziraphale, however, didn’t let go, checking rapidly that his Grace was still coating every inch of Crowley’s occult essence. Crowley slapped his hand away with a grunt.

“I’m fine. I can bear it.”

Aziraphale nodded, then turned to the trough to extract more water, leaving it gently bouncing mid-air, then waved a hand to repair the wooden walls.

“So. It didn’t work quite as well as I was expecting.”

“What do you mean, stupid ? I’m alive, am I not ?”

“But it hurts you.”

“Well, I wasn’t really expecting it _not_ to, angel. Hurts since you put your Grace all over me. Burns my wings like crazy... water makes it worse. Still better than _that_ ” ended the demon, pointing at one of the puddles of green, demonic remains.

“Oh, dear...”

“How much more can you manage ?”

The angel eyed the water remaining at the bottom of the trough.

“Three times, I think. Can you stand it ?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that, I’ll live.”

The angel tilted his head, trying to catch some noise outside.

“They are awfully quiet.”

“Preparing the next attack. They’ll come back once they stop freaking out.”

Aziraphale’s eyes turned cold again.

“Then let them come.”

* * *

Hastur was having the time of his life.

He was worried, of course. Knowing that someone else would probably rip his angel into shreds before dawn had his blood boiling. But he couldn’t take part, he was forbidden to approach Aziraphale, or even lay eyes on him.

And no one else would destroy his angel.

The Chase was always a fun occasion. To stalk a prey wasn’t the only good thing. Getting rid of competition was very entertaining.

He jumped from his hidden spot behind the Bentley and cut the throat of a young demon, turning away without bothering to watch him discorporate. Stupid youngsters, not even smart enough to watch their backs.

“That’s thirty-two” he purred, a smile stretching his lips.

Another bout of yelling and screeching came from the stable, some yards away, dying as quickly as it had started.

Stupid pricks, thinking Aziraphale would be an easy prey.

Hastur slid into the shadows again. He intended to destroy many more of his fellow demons. He was aiming for sixty six.

At least.

* * *

The last attack had just ended, the surviving demons retreating in terror once more, and Crowley was gripping the edge of the manger, panting heavily, a part of his mind still keeping demonic activity around them in check, the other only trying to fight the burning pain that grew heavier every minute.

“That was our last shot” despaired Aziraphale, looking into the trough like he could refill it by sheer will.

They couldn’t, though. The demons outside were blocking any miracle trying to get in or out of the stable, and you just couldn’t _create_ water out of nothing. Not unless you were God. Usually Aziraphale could summon water from anywhere on the planet in a split second. But not at the moment, not with a good hundred occult entities whose only intent was to trap them.

He turned to Crowley, ready to ask what might be their enemies next move, when he took in his friend’s appearance.

“Oh… oh Crowley, I am sorry ! Don’t move !”

Aziraphale snapped his fingers to remove every drop of Holy Water dripping off his friend, then put a hand between the demon’s shoulder-blade and caught the edge of the layer of Grace covering his corporation, pulling it off rapidly. Crowley nodded in gratitude.

“Sorry, I can not cleanse your wings that easily.”

“S… already much… better” affirmed the demon, straightening his back. Each of his feather felt like a white-hot needle, but he was able to think again. The wings could wait to be safe at home, if they were ever to make it home, of course.

“No more Holy Water. How do I fight a demon ? Do you have a weak point ?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“Six thousand years and you ask that _now_ ?”

The angel pouted “Well, it is not like I was aiming to _hurt_ a demon before !”

Crowley could hardly object to that.

“No, no weak spot. I mean, same as angels. Wings, mostly. You should probably fold yours, they will want to rip them out.”

“I am stronger with them in this plane. And I know how demons are obsessed with angel wings. If it helps make them lose focus, that is a good thing.”

Crowley growled discontentedly.

“Will it really make a difference anyway ?” asked Aziraphale softly. “Still two hours before dawn. I do not think we can make it.”

His friend looked at him. Aziraphale smiled fondly.

“Nah. Don’t think it either, angel. Does that mean you’re giving up ? Or do you fancy a last hurrah ?”

The angel patted his hand, chuckling.

“Do you really have to ask, dear boy ? I thought you knew me better.”

“Hey, don’t want to assume, you could be tired. Haven’t had a single cup of tea for hours. I don’t even know if your corporation can stand the deprivation much longer.”

“I _could_ do with a nice cup of sencha” mused Aziraphale.

Crowley’s relaxed face suddenly sharpened. Something had just shifted in the enemies resolution.

“Forget about demon’s weakness, angel. They just changed tactics.”

The angel’s mouth set in a grim line. “Hellhounds. Just perfect.”

They exchanged a glance, and smiled at the same time.

“Don’t count on me to give you the goodbye speech again, Aziraphale.”

“Oh, you mean ‘That was that, it was nice knowing you’? _T_ _hat_ can hardly be called a proper goodbye speech. You should probably work on that.”

Outside, barking erupted, growls drew near. Aziraphale paled a little. He had heard stories about Hellhounds bites. None of them were pleasant recounting.

“There seem to be a lot of them.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you. We won’t make it past the first one.”

“How comforting.”

The stable’s wall exploded, and this time the roof fell. Both entities raised their wings in protection, losing precious seconds. Crowley felt something crash into him, slamming him to the ground, and almost immediately a giant jaw aimed at his shoulder. His snake instinct took command, and he avoided the attack in a blink of an eye, rolling out of reach and back on his feet in inhuman speed.

He braced himself for the next attack, but it didn’t come, and a sudden cry resounded behind him, in an all too familiar voice. The demon whirled on himself.

Hellhounds. At least a dozen, fighting to get to their prey all at once.

Crowley rushed forward as the trough, hurled at the pack, sent two of the beasts flying over him (you could always count on Aziraphale to find a way to use any innocent object as a weapon) and resumed his running.

Too late. His eyes caught a fluttering of white wings amongst the beasts bodies, but that vision disappeared as the angel fell to the ground, immediately trampled by the hounds that were so eager to bite him that they lost a few seconds fighting each other.

Another cry of pain, weaker this time.

Crowley tried to claw at the nearer hound, who turned to him, growled and pounced as smoothly as a feline, pinning him under his paw.

 _Fuck_ , thought Crowley, closing his eyes as way too many teeth plunged toward his neck.

A yelp, a low growl near his ear, the sound of a fight.

No pain. That was… strange. Good strange, of course, but… no pain. Even his wings suddenly felt better.

Crowley sat with a gasp. The angelic Grace coating his feathers was fading away.

“Aziraphale !”

Ignoring the Hellhound’s body twitching near him, he jumped back on his feet, searching…

This was carnage. two more Hellhounds were dead on the ground, another one only barely alive. The pack was gathering farther away, the surviving beasts fighting with a small…

_Dog ?_

Adam’s companion jumped, tearing an ear apart. Dog had obviously made good use of his surprise appearance, but he was no match for that many opponents. The fight moved a few feet away. Enough for Crowley to discern a human shaped body clad in beige. He rushed to it, kneeling near his friend, and relief overflowed him as Aziraphale made an attempt at sitting.

“Angel, you all right ?”

What a stupid question. His jacket was torn in at least three different places, and one of his legs was obviously shattered, golden ichor soaking the angel's clothes.

“Fierfectly… tickety boo. Help me up.”

He reached out, took hold of a miraculously intact shoulder, and pulled as gently as he could. Aziraphale cried out. He let go at once, terrified.

“Sorry ! Sorry angel !”

“No… no problem. I am fine. Just… just need to rest a little.”

“Rest ? We can’t rest ! We have to...”

But the angel was already closing his eyes. Crowley shook him to wake him up, then shook harder, without result. He could still feel the Grace weakening on his wings.

_Are Hellhound’s fangs poisonous to angels ?_

“Shit ! Aziraphale, wake up for the love of...”

Footsteps echoed behind him. Stopped at his back.

“Don’t you worry, Crawly. We will take care of your white winged friend.”

Crowley didn’t even turn. No need, he knew that voice.

“Hi, Dagon.”

“My friends and I are here for the Chase, Crawly. And you are in our way. You two put up quite a fight, I have to grant you that. But it’s over now. Everyone, remember : whoever strikes the killing blow gets the prize !”

With great care, Crowley laid the angel back on the ground and got on his feet before turning around, posting himself between Aziraphale and the demons gathering around.

Way, way too many demons.

Dog yelped in pain in the distance.

_Well. Nice knowing you, angel...  
_

It really _was_ a lame goodye, admited Crowley with a grim smile, but he couldn't think of anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you about Hurt! Aziraphale 😉


	4. Hell's worse nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end... Crowley is despaired enough to try talking to God.  
> Far away, a boy is searching his missing Dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. Who here was thinking I could stick to four chapter ?  
> (Raises her hand. Realise she's the only one)  
> Let's say that chapter got out of control. I swear I don't remember writing most of it. I was staring at my computer, and it was just writing itself. I'm pretty sure I've been possessed.  
> Hence the angst, when I had promised FLUFF !
> 
> So... I need one more chapter, for fluff, for Christmas, for cocoa and comfort.  
> The boys (and dog) NEED comfort.

Pain. It was pain that reached Adam first, strangely. But the other emotions were stronger. They landed on his spirit, put fire into it. Anger, raw and sharp. Violence, so sweet it called for more, and more, and more…

Pain again, awful, searing, tearing him apart…

He gasped, trashing around for a second before sitting up, panting heavily.

Bedroom. It was his bedroom. Just a nightmare.

_It is not a nightmare, he knows nightmare, none of them would ever dare enter his mind._

The pain was still here. The anger and violence too. There was a metallic taste in his mouth, and it was delicious and frightening at the same time.

Something was _wrong_. Something was… missing. Something important, a part of him, like waking up missing a limb.

“… Dog ?”

* * *

That’s it then. Finally. Took time, but Her judgement was always coming back in the end like a freekin’ boomerang, right ? Crowley always knew the apple thing wouldn’t go unnoticed forever. What are six thousand years on God’s “to do” list after all ?

_Item 52842 : Smite Crawly for ruining everything._

Well, here he was, right ? Pulling the angel down with him, of course. He didn’t really care about the sentence, to be honest. Not now. Aziraphale’s Grace in his wings felt so thin that he didn’t even know if it was still there or if it was a figment of his imagination. Ten minutes ago, each of his feathers was burning so hot he could have ripped them all out. Pain had never been his thing, but Satan, how happily he would welcome it back now !

Dagon moved closer, and Crowley crouched slightly, baring his fangs. He knew the Chase. He knew Hell. Even if the prize was offered against Aziraphale’s life, not one of the demons here was willing to end it fast. They wanted to rip wings out, to burn feathers, to hear cries and to feel pain. Angelic Grace was like a burn, a thirst, a painful reminder of what they have lost. And they wanted to destroy it. It was in their blood. The hatred, the want for destruction. It was in his too, always had been. But he had imagination enough to dull it, to pat it on the head and let it sleep peacefully in a corner. To think, and decide when to wake it up and on whom to unleash it.

None of these demons had the slightest bit of imagination. And there was an angel on the floor, right under their noses.

Was he still alive ? Never mind, he had to be, if he wasn’t, Crowley didn’t care what happened next.

So the angel was alive, at least in Crowley’s mind. And he was about to suffer. Broken wings, hellfire, agony, until the final blow, like a deliverance.

_No fucking way._

Crowley was not happy. Worst moment of his existence. Falling ? Ha ! Falling was an easy ride compared to what was about to happen. What he was about to _do_.

And he had to. Right ? There was no other choice.

Crowley summoned Hellfire in the palm of his hand, burning low, such a tiny, ridiculous flame, hidden in his fist.

_Listen to me. If you’re hearing me, and I know you are, this is the moment. This is your opportunity. I swear to You, if there is an Ineffable Plan, this has to be it. Time for a miracle. You can’t just let it happen, you can’t let me do that. Right ? Right ?_

The crowd of demons pressed closer, and Crowley took a step back. His foot bumped into something… soft.

_Time to show up. You hear me ? That’s your big moment here, you have to do something !_

Of course She didn’t lift a finger.

The demons were closing in, all toothy smiles and shiny eyes. So eager, their claws growing as they eyed the white feathers almost at arm’s reach.

Crowley closed his eyes. To the others, he must have been looking like he was about to bolt, to dart up and slice some throats. Truth is he was just low enough to touch the angel behind him.

Hellfire in his hand, he reached back…

_I can’t.  
_

The fire died on his fingers.

Failure of a demon. Failure of a friend, not even able to help when it was most needed.

_God. Last chance. Do something, now !_

“Where is my dog ?”

Crowley didn’t understand at first. The words reached his ears, but the voice was of no interest to him.

“Where is my dog ?”

The demons scattered around Crowley. He blinked. That voice. He knew it.

“Don’t move.”

The ugly, filthy crowd froze. Terrified eyes the only things still alive in stiff faces.

“Dog ! Dog, where are you ?”

A whimper just behind the red haired demon, and he turned around with difficulty. Dog was there, laying near Aziraphale, licking his face twice before barking loudly, calling for his Master.

“Good Dog” mumbled Crowley painfully. The Hellhound’s tail wagged.

Adam finally appeared between two demons. He made his way around Dagon, hands in the pockets of his stripped pyjamas. He had to see the angel now, he couldn’t _not_ see him. Still, he didn’t speed up. He stopped near Crowley, and the demon looked at him with despair.

“Whot are you waiting for, kid ! DO something ! It’s Hellhound bites. Don’t tell me you can’t heal _that_ !”

Adam shot him an annoyed glance, but crouched nonetheless, and put his hand on the angel’s chest.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then Aziraphale opened his eyes and _scream_ _ed_ , trashing around, trying to push away the hand that poured raw demonic energy into him, burning him as it healed without care for anything else than repairing broken things, cold and ruthless.

Crowley grabbed the child and yanked him away.

“Have you lost your mind ? You can’t heal someone like _that_ ! You’ll kill him !”

Adam raised cool eyes. They were totally red, demonic and frightening.

“Seems to me… seems to me that I saved him. You should thank me.”

Dog limped near his Master, sat at his heel. Adam bent over and touched him, and even if the Hellhound didn’t make a sound, Crowley sensed the devastating pain of the healing. This was not necessary. They’d _taught_ Adam how to heal properly. Dread settled slowly in the demon’s chest. He resumed his position in front of Aziraphale without a thought, facing the child.

_It’s Adam. You had a snowball fight with him last week._

“Someone hurt my dog,” declared the Antichrist casually, and the demonic crowd cringed inwardly. Crowley’s breath hitched.

_It’s Adam, no need to be afraid._

“Someone hunted my angel,” added the boy in a sweet voice.

Bile rose in Crowley’s throat. That sentence was anything but right. There was no mistaking the child’s meaning there. His possession. His thing, his belonging.

“That dog is _mine._ ”

Two demons crumbled to the ground, unable to resist the weight of their master’s words any more. Others started to whimper.

“That angel is _mine_ to hunt. And that demon is _mine_ to slay.”

Crowley’s mind was yelling.

_NO. This is not. True._

_It’s Adam. It’s Adam._

“Adam.” uttered Crowley. He was aiming to sound stern, but the word emerged as a supplication.

“They’re _mine_. **How dare you touch what’s MINE !** ”

Somewhere, deep down in the part of him still able to rationalise, Crowley vaguely understood what was happening. Too many demons, to many horrifying thoughts, the smell of blood and pain and the want for destruction. The kid just walked into that, barely awake, and his demonic blood was boiling, calling for him, howling for revenge.

Each and every one of these demons was supposed to serve him. How dare they ? No wonder he lost himself. No wonder the Beast awoke.

 _Adam. Listen to me,_ tried his uncle once more. But the words didn’t even leave his mouth. Adam’s aura was too heavy, too strong, too overwhelming. He wanted to fall on his knees and ask for forgiveness. He was a _demon_ , and that child’s blood _call_ _ed_ to him.

“I am not yours” declared a polite voice in Crowley’s back.

Time seemed to freeze, and Crowley had nothing to do with it. Something was shifting behind him. The soft sound of wings folding into ether, of hands brushing the fabric of an old waistcoat.

“Oh dear. What a mess...”

_Angel, what the fuck ? Not the time to fret about your clothes !_

“What did you say, Aziraphale ?” asked the Antichrist in a dangerous voice.

_Easy now, angel, careful… humour him, cajole him, play his game, just for now._

“You do not own me. I am not yours. And neither is Crowley.”

_Oh. Good, excellent, angel. Way to go, direct confrontation, can’t possibly go wrong, right ? What the Heaven are you thinking ?_

Adam squinted his eyes.

“You are. And he is. _He_ certainly is. Aren’t you, Crowley ?”

_Yes ! yells a despicable part of Crowley’s brain. I am yours to command ! Yes, just say the word ! Master ! Master !_

This was bad. Every other demon was already on bent knees, and Crowley knew he shouldn’t be able to stand up any more. But he wasn’t Hell’s puppet. Never had been, never would be. No freakin way ! His corporation felt about to break in half, to crumble and dissolve. His occult core felt the same, but Crowley ran on sheer will and imagination right now, and _flames_ , bowing to the Antichrist's will was NOT an option !

“You do not own Crowley. He is free. He does not belong to anyone.”

The angel’s voice was amused, with a slight edge of contempt.

_You wanna die ? You really want him to destroy you on the spot ? What are you doing, angel ?_

“Oh, really ?” Adam (no, this face is not Adam’s anymore. These eyes are not their godson’s) turned to Crowley, a scary, lazy smile on his lips.

“Tell us, Crowley. Tell us who you belong to. **Tell us**.”

The demon closed his eyes, grinding his teeth so hard they should have shattered long ago.

_NO. No no no no, never, never !_

_I am not a thing. I have my own name. I am free, we’re free !_

The Beast’s eyes bore into his, and he couldn’t look away.

“ _TELL US, Crowley”_

This was too much, he was about to lose himself, everything that was… him. He knew it.

A light hand touched his shoulder.

“It is all right, dear boy. Do not fight.”

Crowley’s whole being revolted at these words, and he tried with all his might to look away from the terrifying child.

“Let go, Crowley. Do not resist, my dear.”

Never in his life had Crowley surrendered to anyone. He couldn’t even think of renouncing his free will.

But. But if he had to chose one certainty, one fixed point in the universe, it was the knowledge that Aziraphale would _never_ betray him. Not in a million years. And he couldn’t wait any longer. The angel’s next words would be “trust me”, and it would be awful to make him say it. Of course he does. No need to ask.

Crowley closed his eyes, and surrendered to the will of Hell’s child.

The lanky corporation stilled, yellow eyes suddenly yielding and breaking contact, looking down, head bowing in submission, and Crowley knelt like every other demon.

“Yours, master. I am yours to command.”

The Antichrist’s smile wavered, while his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Adam, it is _Crowley_. You are imposing your will on _Crowley_ , Adam. Look at me, my dear child. Adam, look at me. This is not right, Adam.”

The angel’s voice was soft and calm, and Crowley wasn’t really aware of what it said. The only things keeping him whole was his Master’s eyes, and that hand on his shoulder, soft and comforting, feeling like an anchor.

Slowly, the Antichrist blinked, the red stare receded, blue irises taking their place. Crowley shuddered, the spell breaking suddenly, and let out a long, shaky breath.

“Adam ? Dear, do you hear me ?”

The angel’s hand was gone. Crowley gathered himself and tried to focus on his friend’s voice. Aziraphale was there, just a few feet away, arms folded around the _monster_ …

 _N_ _o, Adam. That’s Adam._

“Do you hear me ?”

Crowley didn’t hear a thing, but there must have been an answer. The angel smiled and stroke the curly head tenderly.

“Good. Everything is fine, now. Do not talk, my dear, just close your eyes. You are fine, it is over.”

A miracle must have been involved, thought Crowley, cause no child could have fallen asleep that fast after… _that_. Aziraphale gathered the boy in his arms and looked around, suddenly grim and angry and fucking terrifying.

_Wrath is the anger of Heaven._

“Go back to Hell, all of you. And if any of you ever approach us again, I swear to God you will wish for Holy Water.”

Aziraphale may not have been considered a threat by Hell’s hosts before. But now, cradling the Antichrist in his arms without the slightest hint of fear, he was probably their worst nightmare. Well… second worst.

They rushed down through the ground like all of the Hellhounds were after them. Dagon wasn’t the last to go.

Aziraphale looked at his friend worriedly.

“How do you feel, my dear ? Are you all right ?”

 _Do you resent me ? Do you feel betrayed ? Did it hurt ?_ Crowley could hear the questions as clear as if the angel had put them into words. Freakin’ bastard, using him to reach Adam, asking him to give in to wake the boy’s human’s heart.

“No, I’m not all right ! And it’s your fault ! I am NOT fine AT ALL, Aziraphale !”

The angel’s eyes widened in surprise and concern. And in a second, it would be shame and regret. But Crowley didn’t give him a second.

“My wings hurt like Heaven, angel ! Do you really want me to die ? Is that what you want ? How long do you plan to leave your disgusting Grace on my feathers ?”

The angel tutted and settled Adam’s head a little more comfortably on his shoulder.

“You are overreacting, Crowley. It can not be that bad. And can I remind you this _disgusting_ Grace saved your life tonight ?”

By some kind of unspoken agreement, both entities started walking towards the Bentley.

“Oh yeah ? Who saved the other’s life first ? They were not after me ! I’ve been a bloody hero, here, and I didn’t hear one single wahoo !”

“You didn’t have to come, you could have stayed at the bookshop. I would have been perfectly fine by myself.”

“Ha ! Right, I can imagine that ! Don’t count on me to help next time, all I’m saying. I’ll leave you alone.”

“Oh I have no doubt you will, you selfish creature.”

“Don’t smile while you say that ! I am ! I am very selfish !”

“Yes, you are a dreadful demon. Not one once of compassion in you.”

“Angel ?”

“Yes, my dear ?”

“Stop smiling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hurt myself writing this. Poor Crowley. Poor Dog. Poor Aziraphale. Poor Adam (damn, poor Adam !! How can I be so cruel ?)  
> Everyone is going to be FINE !  
> Do not be afraid !  
> I can't fulfill my promises about the number of chapters, but Happy Ending will always, always be there for my boys !  
> Last chapter will come very soon.^^


	5. Late Christmas gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our dear boys can finally rest at home...  
> But there is an Antichrist to reassure, a demon's wings to groom, and an angel to patch up.  
> Will it really be a merry Christmas ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised some FLUFF !  
> And I delivered (I hope !)

Adam was hearing voices in his sleep. Not the dark, ominous voices that had pushed him towards Armageddon, but familiar, comforting ones. He tried to focus on them, to understand what they were saying…

“Hastur ? Really ?”

“Yep. First thing he did once the target’s name was unveiled. Came directly to me, since he can’t talk to you.”

“I will have to find a way to thank him. I imagine they would have cornered me here even before you came back from your errand and… well… end it quickly.”

“I suppose so,” conceded Crowley’s voice reluctantly. “I still want to strangle the bastard, but I guess we owe him.”

“I will think of something. Now stop moving, please. You are not making this any easier.”

Crowley let out a sigh of relief, and Adam struggled to open his eyes. The demon was in pain, he could feel it. He sat up clumsily, realising he was on Crowley’s sofa in the bookshop. Dog, curled on himself at his feet, opened one lazy eye to watch him.

“Oh, hello, Adam, dear. How do you feel ?”

“Hi, kid.”

Lots of memories were swimming in Adam’s mind, and he had the dreadful feeling he wouldn’t like them at all once they had settled and replayed in good order. He tried to postpone the moment, focusing on his uncles, sitting on the rug near the fire. Crowley, looking tense, had his wings out, one of them sprawled on Aziraphale’s lap. The angel was gently caressing each feather in turn, with slow, deliberate motions.

“What are you doing ?”

Crowley answered with pleading eyes.

“He’s torturing me !”

“Now, no need to be dramatic, dear boy.”

“You are ! I am burning, and it’s all your fault !”

Aziraphale smiled, not looking up from his work, and took a long feather between two fingers, sliding them along it. Adam squinted his eyes and saw something shiny detaching itself from the primary, sticking to the angel’s hand before disappearing. He gasped and jumped to his feet.

“You’re taking something off them ! What is that ?”

“Angelic Grace,” answered Aziraphale, freeing another feather.

“It’s hurting him ! Who did this to you, uncle Crowley ?”

“I did. Now will you stop overreacting ? You look like your uncle.”

Adam sat down and looked at the angel’s hands. The Grace was hurting Crowley. But Aziraphale had put it there, and there had to be a reason.

“You put it on every feather ?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And now you’re taking it away. Why ?”

Crowley stretched his arms and neck, careful not to dislodge his wing.

“Angels are immune to their own blessings. They can make a whole crowd feel happy and warm, but it won’t affect them. So coating me in his Grace made me… impervious to everything he blessed. Including Water. Hurts like Heaven, though.”

Adam blinked in confusion. Aziraphale smiled at him.

“Blessings and miracles are slightly different. I can only use miracles on myself.”

“Sobering up,” murmured Crowley. The angel frowned at him.

“What Holy Water ?”

Both entities looked back at their Godson.

“Why did you have to touch Holy Water ? What happened ?”

Memories of the night were still waiting to come back, and Adam stopped pushing them away. His eyes widened.

“I… what did I do ?”

Crowley grimaced. He’d hoped the kid wouldn’t remember. Adam misinterpreted his reaction and stepped back.

“I… I hurt you !”

“Now, Adam, let’s calm...”

“I made you obey ! I ordered you !”

Adam was getting frantic, memories of Armageddon overflowing his mind. His friend’s terrified eyes… the way he’d made them bow to his will… and he’d done it again. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t and he’d done it again, with Crowley ! With his _uncle Crowley_ !

“You saved us.”

Aziraphale’s voice cut through the boy’s distress. He looked at the angel with a heartbreaking expression.

“You _saved_ us. We were about to get killed, Adam.”

“But I… I did things… I was awful. I was… a monster”

The angel tutted. “You are not and will never be a monster, my dear.”

Of course he would say that. Of course he would lie to make Adam feel better. But the boy knew who he really was. He’d thought he had gotten rid of that part of himself, but obviously that wasn’t the case.

“I am one. You know it’s true. that’s why I’ve been made. To be a monster that kills people. That’s why I was created. And it was me tonight. It was me who said those things.”

And now, of course, Aziraphale would say _this wasn’t you, that_ _awful thing_ _is not you !_ _You can fight it, and bury it inside of you !_

But his angelic uncle always found ways to surprise him.

“Of course it was you. You are partly demonic, my dear boy. Trying to suppress that is not a good thing at all. You can not lock away the parts of yourself that you fear. Locks can be picked, and bolts can be destroyed, and then it leads to very dangerous situations. You should learn to understand this side of you, to tame it… to let the door open for it.”

The angel rose and took his Godson by the shoulders.

“I have been created a Cherub by God Herself. And I chose to be someone else. If God approved of that, of one of her angels to be different from what she expected of him, why should you bother about the purpose you have been created for ? You are who you chose to be.”

Suddenly Crowley was there, too, smirking at him, glasses nowhere to be seen.

“Listen to him, kid. Rebelling against your true nature is _good_.

Aziraphale harrumphed “I never said _that_ !”

Adam looked from one of his uncles to the other. There wasn’t the slightest hint of fear or disgust in their eyes.

“I… I don’t know how to do that. Not keeping it locked, I mean. I don’t like to think about it.”

Aziraphale looked at his friend and raised an eyebrow pointedly. Crowley took the hint.

“I’m the expert at controlling demonic impulses, kid. Well, not all of them, just one or two, the not funny ones. So why not work on that, both of us ? I can come once or twice a week to teach you. What d’ya think ?”

Adam nodded, relief invading him.

“Good” stated Aziraphale with a wide, soft smile that illuminated the room “And do not think too much about what happened last night. Crowley and I know what losing control is. I can assure you we didn’t always came to our senses as fast as you did.”

Adam’s eyes widened “Really ?”

“Why, yes of course. We’ve been here from the beginning, and 6000 years is a long time. Everybody gets angry someday, I imagine...”

 _Especially with all the things Humanity can pull off_ , thought Crowley, remembering several instances where Aziraphale had lost it when the cruelty was too much to bear. He nodded in agreement “Anyway, everything’s fine, kid. You resisted it, that was impressive. Proud of you. Fancy a drink ?” Crowley’s ears were slightly red, and he had miracled his glasses back. He hated that kind of conversation, and no way he would stay after having said something _nice_. He still had some pride, thank you very much.

“A tea would be most welcome. And some cocoa,” answered the angel with a fond smile, knowing perfectly that Crowley always felt uncomfortable after praising someone.

“Right away, angel” answered a relieved demon, all but rushing out of the room.

Adam sat on the rug by the fire, his fears dissolving as he watched the flames. The knowledge that he wasn’t alone with these cool but scary powers was reassuring. He smiled widely as a little white mouse ran into his hands.

“Algernon ! How are you ? Dog, say hi to Algernon.”

Dog wagged his tail lazily. He had learned the hard way not to consider that creature prey.

“You will have to go back home before your family wakes up, my dear. It is Christmas after all, they will expect you to get up early.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot ! It’s Christmas ! What time is it ?”

Aziraphale checked his antique clock.

“Almost six.”

The boy jumped on his feet, eyes wide open in fear.

“I have to go ! My sister will come to wake me up, she always want everyone to open the presents early !”

Aziraphale spluttered “But… it is not even six… surely you have a little time for cocoa.”

“Sorry uncle Z, have to go ! See you tomorrow, right ?”

The angel watched helplessly as his Godson and Dog disappeared in the blink of an eye. He sighed forlornly. Not being able to drink his cocoa… the Antichrist big sister’s was an awful bully, thought Aziraphale. Thank God, it had been decided weeks ago that he would spend the second week of his holidays in the bookshop with them.

Then his pout suddenly transformed in an offended expression as he realised something was _missing_.

“Adam Young ! How dare you...”

He raised his hand to snap his fingers, but Adam was already back, materializing in front of him with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry ! I forgot !” He reached out his hands, cupped together, and transferred a squirming and angry Algernon into his uncle’s palm.

“Really, my dear ! How could you...”

The boy sent him a toothy grin, waved and disappeared again. Aziraphale huffed discontentedly and stroked his little furry friend, kissing his ears before putting him gently back on the floor.

“There you are, my dear. Look at you, so pretty and adorable. I will never let anyone take you away.”

“Aw, thanks angel. You’re not so bad yourself,” answered Crowley’s laughing voice behind him.

Aziraphale chuckled before turning to his friend.

“Hey, where’s the kid ?”

“Back home. Apparently Sarah is waking everyone up very early on Christmas day.”

Crowley made a face.

“That girl should have been the Antichrist, not Adam.”

“Do not tease, dear boy. She is… a nice girl. With a… strong personality.”

“Yeah, you can say that. I’m sure the kid will be happy when we pick him up tomorrow. Tea, angel.”

Aziraphale took his winged mug, sipped it absent-mindedly, and looked as his friend put the cocoa mug and his glasses on the coffee table, then choked as he saw the familiar yellow eyes, and put his own mug down.

“Oh, dear. Your pupils, Crowley !”

“Whot ? What’s wrong with them ?”

“You are still in pain ! Come here, I completely forgot about your wing, silly me !”

The demon sprawled on the rug, waving the angel’s concern away.

“Honestly I didn’t think about it any more. But now you talk about it, yes, I could do without the… warmth.”

Aziraphale sat near him and resumed his ministrations, erasing every remnant of his Grace feather after feather, not stopping once the last of them was finally free and starting to straighten and pull them in order in a real preening session. The demon sighed, his tensed jaw and shoulder relaxing gradually. It might have been very painful, thought Aziraphale guiltily. But there had been no other choice at the time, and he would never have been able to create Holy Water near Crowley without that insurance. His own pain was still a sharp memory, and grooming Crowley’s wings was as soothing to him as restoring an ancient book. Even more so, since the book didn’t really care, while the demon all but purred in contentment. When Crowley finally fell asleep on the rug, the angel snapped his finger to relocate him comfortably on the couch, covered him in a soft tartan blanket, miracled the fire a little more higher and the room warmer, and took both cocoa and tea mug before heading to his desk.

Then he thought for a moment before opening a drawer to chose a writing block and a pen. He had a thank you note to send to a Duke of Hell.

It wasn’t Christmas anymore when Crowley opened his eyes and sat up with a groan. He felt wretched, and instinctively reached out in the coffee table’s direction, letting out a frustrated moan as his hand grasped at an empty spot.

“Coffeeeee...”

Slow steps on the stairs, a door opening not far away…

“Oh, so sorry, my dear. Here you are.”

The familiar mug was pressed in his hand. Crowley opened his eyes with a groan. Cappuccino, and cinnamon stick. Cinnamon stick was for cheering up...

“Oh, bless… that wasn’t a dream ?”

“I am afraid not.”

Crowley suddenly put his mug down and cleared his mind with a demonic miracle, his face scrunching up. Waking up like that always left a sour taste in his mouth and soul. But he couldn’t care less at this moment.

“Aziraphale are you all right ?”

“Oh, dear, you shouldn’t have… of course I am fine. Perfectly okay.”

Crowley frowned “Okay ? That’s not a word you use. How do you really feel ? You almost died last night, and I fell asleep like a selfish bastard. How long was I out ?”

“Really, my dear, I assure you I am perfectly...”

“Jussst tell me how long, angel !”

Aziraphale squirmed his his seat. He looked pale, noted the demon with a pang of guilt.

“Only twenty hours.”

“Only… ONLY ? Damn, Aziraphale, why didn’t you wake me up ?”

“But you were sleeping so peacefully ! And you needed to rest after that dreadful affair.”

“And you didn’t, maybe ? Crowley was almost growling, and his friend smiled placatingly.

“I did rest. I assure you I did. Please stop brooding, dear boy.”

“M’not brooding !” Crowley fought a little with his blanket, then got up and shook a finger under the angel’s nose.

“Don’t you move, stupid ! I’m making you tea ! You stay here !”

“Alright, my dear” promised Aziraphale in a soothing voice before taking a book on a nearby table and opening it with a sigh. He should have known Crowley would react that way if he let him sleep in. Still, the demon needed his rest.

He read a few chapter before closing his book with a concerned frown. That tea was taking longer than expected.

“Crowley ?”

“Here ! I’m here ! Don’t move !”

A breathless demon hurried to put a cup of tea and three boxes on the coffee table.

“Crowley… have you been out ?”

“Only a few minutes. Sorry for the wait.”

Aziraphale opened the boxes one by one.

“Sushi… croissants… loukoums ? Crowley ! You didn’t have to do all this, I told you I am _fine_ !”

“Humour me, angel. ‘Kay ?”

Aziraphale took the proffered chopsticks and started eating the sushi selection.

“How are they ?”

“Perfection, of course. Like always. I cannot believe you popped up to Hokkaido only for that !” the tone was chiding, but it was difficult to take it seriously as the sushi vanished one by one in less than two minutes.

“Wow… you _were_ hungry.”

“I didn’t realise… but yes, I am quite famished,” the angel attacked the croissants more slowly. Crowley watched, feeling a little less guilty. He knew Aziraphale surely have had a crappy night, thinking of the demons he had to destroy. Destroy, not just discorporate. The angel hated to kill. It haunted him, centuries later. Crowley, for his part, couldn't care less and would only think of the cries and yelling of last night as a _good_ _riddance_ , but that didn't mean he should ignore his friend's feelings. He should have thought about it before falling asleep, but he was too tired for that. The angel wasn’t sleeping, but food was as invigorating to him as a good night of rest to the demon.

The loukoums were carefully packed again for later, and Aziraphale felt back in his seat with a loud sigh.

“Thank you ever so much, Crowley. That was scrumptious.”

“Hm… ah, angel ?”

A lazy blue eye opened.

“Yes ?”

“I don’t have a gift for you” mumbled Crowley, avoiding his eyes. Aziraphale laughed, and the demon shot him a startled look.

“You just made me one, my dear. This was delicious and so thoughtful. It is more than enough already, but… are you really sure you do not have something else ?”

Oh, damn. Aziraphale thought Crowley was joking and actually had a real gift. That was making things even worse.

“There… there isn’t. Really, I didn’t find one. Was looking for it yesterday, and nothing looked good enough… so I have nothing.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, dear… you must be exhausted. Crowley, you already had a gift, remember ? Sappho’s poems ? You told me you wanted to give them back to me for Christmas.”

 _Oh. OH !_ Crowley put his face in his hands with a groan. He was so _stupid_ ! He had that freaking crate for so long he’d forgot about it. Of _course_ he was supposed to offer it to his friend. He’d saved it from scavengers so many years ago, during the dreadful Holy Water fight, that he had completely forgoten about it. Thank someone the angel remembered. With a snap of his fingers, the precious parchments appeared in a carved wooden box.

“Merry Christmas, angel.”

Aziraphale, hands miraculously gloved, brushed one of the rolls with reverence, his eyes shining way too much for the demon’s liking. Happy tears always made him restless. He got up brusquely.

“I… er… I’ll be upstairs. Things to do… call me if you need something, okay ?”

“Oh, but… Crowley, wait ! What about your gift ?”

Ignoring the demon’s protests, Aziraphale got up and fumbled through his desk.

“Here it is. Merry Christmas, my dear.”

The box was small and light. Crowley, never the patient kind, tore the wrapping paper before opening it. A small key rested on a little cushion.

“Wh… What’s that, angel ?”

Aziraphale was wriggling his hands.

“I… this is nothing, really, but I wanted to make a… gesture, of some sorts. You keep calling the place ‘your bookshop’, like it is only mine, and it feels… quite wrong. You are living here now, and I really want you to think of it as your home too.”

“It’s… a key to the shop ?” asked Crowley in wonder.

“It is… I know it is a silly gift, since you do not need a key, and you are already living here, but...”

Crowley raised a hand.

“Aziraphale. Stop rambling. I love it.”

The angel’s face lit up “Really ?”

“Really. That’s a great gift.”

“Oh ! I forgot, there’s the note too, you should read it.”

The demon looked into the box, took the cushion out, and discovered a sheet of paper, carefully folded. He read it slowly. Then read it again. Then took his glasses off and looked at his friend like he’d gone crazy.

“Angel… what the _fuck_ does that mean ?”

“Really, Crowley ! Do you have to be that rude ? You perfectly see what it is, don’t you ?”

The golden eyes shot back to the paper, which trembled slightly in his hands.

“That’s… you can’t do that ! That’s your _bookshop_ !”

Aziraphale huffed and raised his eyes to the ceiling.

“I just told you it was not _mine_ any more. Now it is ours, you just agreed to it.”

“To the key ! I agreed to the bloody key ! Not to half the ownership !”

“Well, too bad, it is done and signed. Would you please get over it and let me read my poems ?”

The demon stood rooted on the spot while his friend sat back with a sigh and unrolled the first parchment.

* * *

In Hell, a young demon was hurrying along a corridor, a box wrapped in yellow paper in his hands.

“Duke Hastur ! There was something for you on the stairs !”

Hastur jumped from the shadows and gripped the lesser demon by the neck. His eyes dropped to the box, and widened as he recognised the writing.

“The angel...”

He let go of the other without a second thought, and ripped the paper off. There was a letter, and…

“MOVIES !!!!”

The Duke of Hell ran along the corridors towards the Movies Room, clutching tightly into his arms the entire Jane Austen BBC collection.

Hell was about to enter a new era.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley bought sushis in Japan, croissants in France and loukoums in Turkey, in Aziraphale's favourite restaurants and bakeries. He knows the angel well...
> 
> I really hope that story pleased you all ! I was aiming for something different, but as always the boys were determined to get their way !
> 
> Bentley's next chapter will be out in the next days. I hope you all had a fantastic Christmas !!!

**Author's Note:**

> Weeeell, I didn't make it ! Didn't finish it for Christmas!  
> Never mind, I will just pretend it's the 24th and keep writing !
> 
> Hope you enjoy all the angst 😆


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